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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408832" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Good Samaritan</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">He comes from out the ages dim—<br>The good Samaritan;<br>I somehow never pictured him<br>A fat and jolly man;<br>But one who’d little joy to glean,<br>And little coin to give—<br>A sad-faced man, and lank and lean,<br>Who found it hard to live. <br>His eyes were haggard in the drought,<br>His hair was iron-grey—<br>His dusty gown was patched, no doubt,<br>Where we patch pants to-day.<br>His faded turban, too, was torn—<br>But darned and folded neat,<br>And leagues of desert sand had worn<br>The sandals on his feet. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He’s been a fool, perhaps, and would<br>Have prospered had he tried,<br>But he was one who never could<br>Pass by the other side.<br>An honest man whom men called soft,<br>While laughing in their sleeves—<br>No doubt in business ways he oft<br>Had fallen amongst thieves. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, I suppose, by track and tent,<br>And other ancient ways,<br>He drank, and fought, and loved, and went<br>The pace in his young days.<br>And he had known the bitter year<br>When love and friendship fail—<br>I wouldn’t be surprised to hear<br>That he had been in jail. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A silent man, whose passions slept,<br>Who had no friends or foes—<br>A quiet man, who always kept<br>His hopes and sorrows close.<br>A man who very seldom smiled,<br>And one who could not weep<br>Be it for death of wife or child<br>Or sorrow still more deep. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But sometimes when a man would rave<br>Of wrong, as sinners do,<br>He’d say to cheer and make him brave<br>‘I’ve had my troubles too.’<br>(They might be twittered by the birds,<br>And breathed high Heaven through,<br>There’s beauty in those world-old words:<br>‘I’ve had my sorrows too.’) </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And if he was a married man,<br>As many are that roam,<br>I guess that good Samaritan<br>Was rather glum at home,<br>Impatient when a child would fret,<br>And strict at times and grim—<br>A man whose kinsmen never yet<br>Appreciated him. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Howbeit—in a study brown—<br>He had for all we know,<br>His own thoughts as he journeyed down<br>The road to Jericho,<br>And pondered, as we puzzle yet,<br>On tragedies of life—<br>And maybe he was deep in debt<br>And parted from his wife. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">(And so ‘by chance there came that way,’<br>It reads not like romance—<br>The truest friends on earth to-day,<br>They mostly come by chance.)<br>He saw a stranger left by thieves<br>Sore hurt and like to die—<br>He also saw (my heart believes)<br>The others pass him by. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">(Perhaps that good Samaritan<br>Knew Levite well, and priest)<br>He lifted up the wounded man<br>And sat him on his beast,<br>And took him on towards the inn—<br>All Christ-like unawares—<br>Still pondering, perhaps, on sin<br>And virtue—and his cares. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He bore him in and fixed him right<br>(Helped by the local drunk),<br>And wined and oiled him well all night,<br>And thought beside his bunk.<br>And on the morrow ere he went<br>He left a quid and spoke<br>Unto the host in terms which meant—<br>‘Look after that poor bloke.’ </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He must have known them at the inn,<br>They must have known him too—<br>Perhaps on that same track he’d seen<br>Some other sick mate through;<br>For ‘Whatsoe’er thou spendest more’<br>(The parable is plain)<br>‘I will repay,’ he told the host,<br>‘When I return again.’ </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He seemed to be a good sort, too,<br>The boss of that old pub—<br>(As even now there are a few<br>At shanties in the scru .<br>The good Samaritan jogged on<br>Through Canaan’s dust and heat,<br>And pondered over various schemes<br>And ways to make ends meet. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>He was no Christian, understand,<br>For Christ had not been born—<br>He journeyed later through the land<br>To hold the priests to scorn;<br>And tell the world of ‘certain men’<br>Like that Samaritan,<br>And preach the simple creed again—<br>Man’s duty! Man to man! </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>‘Once on a time there lived a man,’<br>But he has lived alway,<br>And that gaunt, good Samaritan<br>Is with us here to-day;<br>He passes through the city streets<br>Unnoticed and unknown,<br>He helps the sinner that he meets—<br>His sorrows are his own. <br>He shares his tucker on the track<br>When things are at their worst<br>(And often shouts in bars outback<br>For souls that are athirst).<br>To-day I see him staggering down<br>The blazing water-course,<br>And making for the distant town<br>With a sick man on his horse. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He’ll live while nations find their graves<br>And mortals suffer pain—<br>When colour rules and whites are slaves<br>And savages again.<br>And, after all is past and done,<br>He’ll rise up, the Last Man,<br>From tending to the last but one—<br>The good Samaritan.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Lawson">Henry Lawson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408832" data-title="The Good Samaritan de Henry Lawson" data-description="He comes from out the ages dim—
The good Samaritan;
I somehow never pictured him
A fat and jolly man;
But one who’d little joy to glean,
And little coin to give—
A sad-faced man, and lank and lean,
Who found it hard to live. 
His eyes were h..."></div>
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